


Put A Little Love In Your Hart

by SamoanSexGodReigns



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas fic, Do not post to another site, F/F, Gift Fic, Humor, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28622610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamoanSexGodReigns/pseuds/SamoanSexGodReigns
Summary: When coming face to face with a difficult decision, Natalya is visited by a group of holiday spirits intent on helping her make the right choice.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4
Collections: Secret Santa 2020





	Put A Little Love In Your Hart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [autopsy_mauve (RedAngelDragnet)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedAngelDragnet/gifts).



> This is lateeeee. I humbly offer it to you anyway. Happy (belated) Holidays!

The sugary splash of grenadine bursts over her tongue, followed by the bite of tequila, and Natalya Neidhart shivers as it slips warm and sweet down her spine. An actual rock 'n roll cover of _Jingle Bell Rock_ is slashing through the speakers, all electric guitar and heavy drums that rattle in her chest and float in her stomach. The entire space is decorated with shimmering tinsel and twinkling rainbow lights, and the room is filled with people in glittering gowns and slick suits. 

It's Christmas Eve at Club Cobalt, she's just ordered her third tequila sunrise, and all in all, it's not a bad way to spend her last night alive. 

She's not going to hurt herself or anything, nothing as extreme as all that, but after tonight she'll no longer be living - if she ever really was, to begin with.

The diamond on the third finger of her left hand sparkles at her accusingly, and Natalya frowns into her fruity beverage. By now, everyone will surely have noticed her absence, and her disappearing act will not be applauded. There's probably fifty missed calls and texts on her phone, but she turned it off the minute she left, and it's buried useless at the bottom of her purse. Her mother is no doubt pacing the floor and whining about her ungrateful daughter while her father sits in his leather wingback chair, arms crossed, frown firmly in place. Tyson Kidd, her fiancé, will be fluttering and floundering between them as he tries to placate and please both family and business partner, and Natalya will be the last thing on his mind. He's not a bad man, Tyson; he's honest and kind and ambitious, if a little dense, but he's just not what she wants, hasn't ever been if she's honest. See, Natalya's different, she's not- 

"-straight." A voice, ringing with smoke and appeal, sings in Natalya's ear and cuts through the din of her thoughts.

"Double tequila shot, straight, coming right up." 

The bartender sets to work on pouring the liquor, and Natalya turns to her left to find the customer in question. It's a woman, a little bit taller than herself, wearing a sleeveless white jumpsuit that contrasts perfectly with her golden skin, and showcases the chiseled definition of her biceps. She has chin-length platinum blonde hair with a sharply cut jaw, and when her attention shifts to Natalya, she's struck by the vibrant blue of the other woman's eyes.

"Can I help you?" she asks, not unkindly, and Natalya's blinded by the brilliance of her smile as her mouth drops open in awe.

"I- uh," she pauses to clear her throat, shakes her head to try and kick start her brain, "no, sorry."

She shifts her attention back to her drink as the bartender slides over a double tequila shot, and the blonde woman takes a seat next to her. "No, I think I can help you." She tips her glass back, downs the shot without a sliver of reaction, and points at Natalya. "You just have to listen. Are you ready to listen, Nattie?" 

Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline, and her eyes go comically wide with shock. "How do you know my name?" Panic speeds her heart, and she's already hovering an inch over her stool, ready to escape before her next words have even left her mouth. "Did my parents send you?" She doesn't know how they could have found her so quickly unless they were tracking her phone or something, which is a genuine possibility, but she very much does not want to be found. 

"Absolutely not," the blonde laughs, shakes her head in amusement. "No, think of me as more of a guardian angel, of sorts." 

"What?" Her lips turn down in confusion, liquor logged brain moving at half-speed. "That doesn't make any sense." 

She reaches into her purse to grab her wallet, ready to close her tab and leave, but she stops short when the sudden silence penetrates her mind. The music has gone quiet, the chatter and laughter of a hundred plus holiday revelers has evaporated, and as she looks around the room, she realizes that everyone else has stopped moving. Every other patron of the bar is stock still, frozen in time like Sleeping Beauty's party guests. 

"What's going on?!" She stands up so quickly she upends her stool and sends it clattering to the floor. She almost follows it down, but the other woman's arm darts out just in time to save Natalya from falling. 

"Whoa, easy there, Nattie. I told you, I'm basically a guardian angel, a guiding spirit, if you will, and I'm here to show you the path."

"The path to what?" None of this made sense. Not the statue people, not the gorgeous guardian, none of it. Magic didn't exist. Angels didn't exist. 

Did they? 

"Who are you?"

"The path to your destiny." 

She snaps her fingers, and with a puff of shimmering smoke, a gold business card appears in her hand. She hands it to Natalya, and it's actual gold, cut so thin she can almost see through it, but it doesn't crinkle or crumple in her grip. Etched on the front in delicately flowing black cursive is _Beth Phoenix_ and the words _Cosmic Counselor_.

"I am so confused." She rubs at her temple, where a migraine has begun to form, and this is really not how she planned on spending her Christmas Eve. "What's a Cosmic Counselor?"

Beth's expression goes soft, like she's dealing with an adorably dumb child, and she points to herself with a smile, "You're lookin’ at her."

"That doesn't really answer my question." 

"I know. Life's full of fun little mysteries, isn't it?" Her laughter is high and sultry and genuine. "So, tonight you will be visited by three spirits - The Hearts of Holidays Past, Present, and Future - and they're going to show you a few things, teach you a few lessons, and by the end of it you might actually understand more than you ever asked."

Her forehead furrows, and she swears her eyebrows meet in the middle as she fights to understand the situation. "But I thought you just said you were going to guide me? Who are these other spirits?" 

"Do you think you're the only person I have to help tonight?" she snaps, eyes narrowing impatiently. "No, I've got at least a dozen other sad humans that I have to talk off the metaphorical ledge before the holidays over. I don't have time to hold everyone's hand every step of the way. Besides," and here she goes back to being bubbly and upbeat, "I'll be popping in, ya know, if you need me, and I promise, you are one hundred percent safe with my colleagues. You're in good hands."

Another snap of her fingers and the room disappears around Natalya. The bar, the patrons, the building itself all melt and dissolve like the wax of a burning candle until she's left in nothing but darkness. "Hello? Beth?" Her voice sounds far off, seeming to echo even as it leaves her lips, and the inky black air ripples around her. "Is anyone there?"

A resounding _clack_ shakes the space like a quake, and she jumps like a spooked pony as a single spotlight illuminates in the distance. Heart throbbing in her throat, and with seemingly no other choice, she makes her way through the void and towards the light. Her steps are loud in the silence, the tap of her heels sharp and lonely, and as she gets closer to the light, a house suddenly appears in the middle of it. In between one blink and the next, it's just there, as if it always had been, and Natalya's stopped asking for any of this to make sense. 

It's a quaint little structure, welcoming and warm, with sparkling blue icicle lights and a large Christmas wreath tacked to the front door. It's the perfect space for a family just starting to push the limits of their ambition, and there's something about it that tickles familiar in the back of her mind. There's a softly golden glow coming from one of the windows, and as she follows it closer, the scent of rosemary wafts in the air. There are sprigs of the herb all around the window sill, woven together like a vine, though there doesn't seem to be a planter anywhere. She peers into the house, nose pressed to the glass like a peeping Tom, and the scene unfolding on the other side makes her gasp.

It's the den of her childhood. 

She remembers that horrid brown carpet, the scratchy soft feel of it between her toes, and how it always smelled like their golden retriever no matter how her mother scrubbed it. The tree in the corner of the room is decorated meticulously with fine shining ornaments and twinkling lights that glitter in garlands of silver tinsel. At the top of the tree is an angel made of haphazardly glued popsicle sticks and construction paper that looks like it was made by a five-year-old because it was. Natalya remembers how happy her mother was when she presented her with that pile of wood that passed for an angel, and she remembers the pride in her mother's eyes as she placed it on top of the tree. 

The fire is roaring, and a chubby little Natalya sits close enough to it that her cherub cheeks are flushed rosy red from its heat as she plays with her new Christmas presents. There's a doll in each of her hands, pretty and fresh from the package perfect, as she directs them through their day of pretend. 

She's just sent Barbie off to work with a kiss from her wife when her father's voice explodes into the cozy Christmas quiet. "Stop that!"

Little Natalya drops the dolls instantly. Her big green eyes go wide with fright, tears of terror pooling in the corners, and her body goes tight with panic. 

"I don't want any of that gay shit in my house."

She doesn't know what _gay shit_ is, doesn't know what she's done to anger her father, but the look of disgust on his face is chilling. "I'm sorry, daddy." 

"I won't have you acting like some kind of dyke."

"Jim! That's enough." Her mother cuts it, pausing amidst mountains of discarded paper and bows and boxes to scold her husband. "Nattie, why don't you go play in your room until dinner."

Tiny Natalya scrambles to her feet and runs to her bedroom as fast as her unsteady legs can take her. It's not until she's curled up tight under her bed that she realizes she forgot her dolls in the den, and quiet tears of regret seep into her carpet. 

She never saw those dolls again.

The confusion and fear she felt as a child is as tangible and real now as they were then, and suddenly her face is wet and salty, and her heart is pounding so hard it shatters. "What is this place?!" she screams, voice tight and choked. "Why are you showing me this?!"

"This is Memoriae Aeternae." The unexpected reply has her whirling around to confront its source. It's another woman, pixie petite, with long blonde hair pulled into pigtails on either side of her head, a few strands dreaded and dyed in varying shades of pink and blue. Her eyes glow an unsettling white, made all the brighter by the bold black of her shadow, liner, and lashes. She's wearing a black and white checkered overall dress with glittery black converse. The look is distinctly playful and childlike, and the tone and tempo of her speech are equally innocent. "The Land of Eternal Memories and I'm it's Watcher - Alexa. You're here because this memory is of particular significance for you."

"What?" She straightens her back, steels her spine, suddenly defensive. "I barely remember this."

"That's not true," Alexa singsongs, drawing out the last word and giggling before instantly sobering. "and we both know it. This experience, this memory, sets you on a path of denial so wide Beth can see it from space." 

"What do you mean?"

Alexa comes closer, grabs Natalya by the shoulders, and spins her around, so she's facing the window. Her father is yelling at her child-self again as the memory replays on an endless loop of dread, and her tears build and burn before tipping acidic down her cheeks. "This is the first time someone told you it wasn't okay to be gay," the reflections of their eyes lock in wintery glass, "and uh, you really ran with that idea, didn't you?" Alexa's brow crinkles, pity dimming her neon eyes as Natalya's nightmare begins anew.

Suddenly Natalya is sobbing. She cries for the little girl she was and the woman she could have been, but she mostly cries for the woman she is. A woman who lets other people's prejudice and expectations run her life because she's afraid. Afraid of not being good enough, afraid of being a disappointment, afraid of not meeting some unattainable societal standard, when what she should have been worried about was pleasing herself.

All that time.

 _Wasted_. 

Her face is hot, and her throat is raw, and it feels like she can't get enough air as she gasps for breath between her whimpering wails. 

"Shh, shh, there, there now. It's okay," Alexa soothes, patting Natalya on the head like a sad puppy, "remembering is the hardest part, and that's all over with now."  
"But what am I supposed to do? How do I fix my life?" 

Alexa sucks in a harsh breath that whistles through her teeth, "Well, you see, that's not actually my thing. I'm just here to play the memories. Telling you how to fix things is more my colleague's job." 

"But-"

"Alexa wiggles her fingers in a cheerful wave and grins. "Toodles!"

The area around her starts to spin, faster and faster like a meth-ed out merry-go-round, and Natalya squeezes her eyes shut as her stomach roils nauseously. She's always hated the carnival. She could never ride anything without being sick, and the centrifugal churning of her tequila dessert is a stark reminder of that. It crawls up the back of her throat, and her chest contracts as she heaves up nothing, and she covers her mouth to try and keep it that way. 

"Oh, my dear, are you alright?" Then almost as an afterthought, "I told Lexi she's been twirlin' 'em too fast."

Natalya's eyes snap open, and she's greeted by yet another woman she's never seen before. She's about the same height as Alexa, built thicker and stronger, with deep brown eyes and chestnut hair to match. She's got a delicately rounded face with creamy skin and a soft Scottish accent. She's wearing grey pants and a grey shirt with a black vest, and the way her hands sort of hover concerned over Natalya is strangely maternal. 

Taking a deep, settling breath, she nods in affirmation. "Yeah, I'm good." Smoothing her hands over her stomach and straightening her posture, she braces for whatever comes next. "Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Nikki," she sticks out her hand to shake, "and I'm just here to help you along."

She accepts Nikki's hand, finds her grip firm and grounding. "Where are we?" 

There's purple tile under their feet and behind Nikki a gleaming toilet and sink combination that looks way too clean to be public. 

"The bathroom."

"Yeah, I can see that," Natalya chuckles. "The bathroom where?"

"The Glitter Room! Come on, it's great, you'll love it!" 

She offers her hand to Natalya again, and after a moment's hesitation, Natalya takes it. She starts to lead them out of the bathroom, but instead of going for the door, she walks straight towards the wall. She doesn't blink, doesn't falter, just keeps walking, and where a regular person would slam into drywall, Nikki walks right through it! Natalya balks, pulls her arm back, and tries to stop, but Nikki's grip tightens and continues to drag her forward. She slips through the wall with a scream lodged in her throat and the feeling of mist on her skin, but she comes out whole on the other side. She runs her hands over her hair, shoulders, stomach, thighs just to be sure, but everything is present and accounted for. 

"What just happened?!"

Nikki beams with pride. "I know! It was great, wasn't it?"

"Not really, no. People aren't supposed to walk through walls. Unless," a sharp gasp, and then the revelation, "I'm in a coma!" Nikki raises a finger as if to interject, but Natalya's on a roll and plows right on ahead. "Yes, that's it! I'm in a coma, and this," she gestures between herself and Nikki and the crowded club where somehow no one has seemed to notice them, "is just my broken brain's way of trying to get me to wake up. Well, I'm ready to wake up now." 

When nothing immediately happens, she tilts her head back to look at the ceiling, as if staring into the heavens beyond, and then she jumps as hard as she can. She's not sure what she expects to happen except that maybe the force of her jump will rattle her awake? Or something, which doesn’t really make any sense, but nothing about this experience does. 

"You're not in a coma, Nattie. It's magic." Nikki turns and sweeps her arm across the room as if to say, _look at all this wonder_ , and for the first time, Nattie actually takes in the room around her.

It's not a huge space, more intimate and relaxed, but no less extravagant with every single available surface covered in glitter. Glitter in the paint, glitter in the tile, glitter in the tabletops and chairs, even the glasses have glitter on them. There are cozy couples and glad groups of friends gathered around colorful drinks and aromatic snacks and in the corner is the biggest, brightest tree Nattie's ever seen. The tinkling tones of Christmas carols drift softly across the air to mix with the patrons' laughter, and the glitter is nothing compared to the shine of their joy. 

It strikes a chord deep within her, fills her with a sense of longing for something that she's not quite sure she's ever had, and the weight of it sinks heavy in her chest. It builds grey and gloomy, and she clears her throat to speak past the dreary cloud of emotion hanging there. "What are we doing here?" 

Nikki's shoulders slump, and she seems to deflate a little as her smile dims. "Oh, Nattie," she sighs in sympathy, "you still don't get it, do you?"

A sudden shriek pierces the air, and the bar goes quiet as all eyes turn to investigate, and there, in the center of the room, right under the mistletoe, someone's gone down to one knee. She has a shock of envy green hair in a spiky pixie cut and bold lipstick to match. She's wearing a black fitted suit with tattoos peeking out of her collar and covering her hands, and inside the heart-shaped box she's holding is a sizable diamond ring. In front of her stands another woman, petite and pretty, with silver-blonde hair and big blue eyes that shimmer with tears. She's got one hand clasped over her mouth in surprise, and Nattie can't hear what's being said, but the blonde woman nods, and then the kneeling woman slips the ring onto her slim finger. She pulls her tattooed fiancé up and into a kiss, and the room erupts with congratulatory cheers.

It's the second proposal she's witnessed tonight, including her own, and it's nothing like what she experienced over Christmas dinner. Where these women radiated genuine love and affection, Natalya's proposal had been strangely clinical and cold. Tyson had not gotten down on one knee, had not prepared sweet words to ask for her hand, and instead, it was her father who had informed them that they would be marrying soon.

"You've been with my daughter for more than a year at this point, Tyson, and I think it's well past time for you to make an honest woman out of my little girl." He announced between the appetizer and the entree.

Tyson nearly choked on his calamari. "If that's what you think is best, sir," he replied, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. 

Her father reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a black velvet box. He slid it across the table towards Tyson, then turned to her silently, and his look said it all. His steely eyes brokered no arguments, his tightly drawn mouth accepted no excuses, and Natalya instantly knew what was expected of her.

She smiled stiffly at her father, extended her left hand to Tyson, and he put the ring on her finger. Her father nodded his approval, and that was that. 

It's not what she wants. Tyson isn't what she wants, but she went along with their plans anyway. Just like she always has because, for some reason, she's never had the strength to stand up to her father. 

"Why is that?" she wonders.

She's doesn't realize she's spoken aloud until Nikki replies, "It's because you're afraid, Nattie, you always have been. Afraid of your parents, afraid of society, and their reaction, but the opposite of fear is love." Her eyes shift towards the engaged couple, still dancing and beaming with bliss. "And love is never wrong, Nattie. You are free to go through life loving whoever you want, and if someone can't accept you, then there are always more people to love and to love you in return. That's the lesson - love is _everywhere_ if you just let yourself see it."

Nikki's voice seems to echo oddly, fading away as if receding down a tunnel, and The Glitter Room washes out in a grey drizzle. 

When she opens her eyes again, she's facing the ocean, there's sea spray misting her face, and at least a fifty-foot drop down the sheer cliffside below. "Jesus!" she shouts, trying to press her leaping heart back into her chest. "What is with all these transitions?! What is wrong with a taxi?!" 

"They're slow," Beth laughs, coming to stand beside her, eyes trained on the midnight majesty of the Atlantic. "Having a good night?"

Nattie snorts. "Nope. It's been kind of sad and depressing, actually, thanks."  
Beth nods with understanding. "Change is never easy. Evaluating our past and how it's shaped us can be very painful. Have you learned anything?"

She contemplates the last few hours, her time spent with Alexa and then Nikki, and all that they tried to show her. The conclusion is obvious; their messages of independence and self-acceptance simple enough to grasp and yet so hard to put into practice. "Yes, but I don't see how that's supposed to change things."  
" _It_ doesn't change things. _You_ have to change things, Nattie. Otherwise, they'll always be the same." She starts to walk away, straight towards the edge of the cliff, and when she gets there - she keeps going. Walking on air as if solid beneath her feet, Beth pauses to turn and face Natalya once more. "I've got one more thing to show you. Something I think you need to see." 

She extends her hand to Natalya, and despite every bit of her self-preservation telling her not to do it, she takes Beth's hand and steps off the edge. She hovers there, weightless and floating, and a terrified giggle escapes her.

"Merry Christmas," Beth whispers, and then she lets go.

Nattie is falling, falling fast and flailing as the water rushes up to meet her, and she screams as the inevitable impact approaches. She hits the ground with a forceful _thump_ , and it takes her stomach a minute to realize that she's not plummeting through the air anymore as it comes to settles in her torso.  
The ground is soft beneath her, downy grass tickling her through the material of her dress, and she digs her fingers into the earth just to be sure it's real. The dirt squishes between her fingers, and she starts to laugh, uncontrolled and manic, as she kicks her feet excitedly in the air. 

She's alive!

"Is she just gonna keep doing that?" 

"I don't know, Kof. She might be broken."

A masculine chortle, "Error 404, sanity not found." 

The appearance of more unexpected voices smothers her laughter, and she struggles to her feet. In front of her are three dark-skinned, neon-clad men in matching tracksuits. They're all about the same height, ranging in size from swim fit to wrestler thick, and each of them exuding a playful aura. 

"Ah, there we go! She stopped," says the one on the left, his dyed blonde braids pulled into pigtails atop his head.

"Not so broken, after all," says the one on the right with another deep-throated cackle. 

"I thought there was only supposed to be one of you?" She's still so confused, has been confused all night, and these men are just another mystery. 

"Sure, maybe, usually there might only be one of us, but there are no rules when every day is a new day," the one in the middle replies, smile wide and wise. "These are my associates, Kofi," he gestures to the man on his left, "and Big E. We're friends of fate." 

"Okay," she says dubiously, drawing out the syllable. "but where are we?" They seem to be in the front yard of another house, on a modest street full of pristine lawns and picket fences, but she doesn't recognize anything.

"The future!" Xavier exclaims, waving his jazz hands.

"Your future, to be exact," provides Big E.

"Or at least the future you could have," Kofi interjects, and Natalya's having a hard time keeping up with them as they seem to share a single mind. 

"So, go on, take a peek," Big E encourages, jerking his chin towards the house.

After everything that's happened since leaving Club Cobalt, she knows that she doesn't really have a choice, knows that if she wants to return home, she has to see this crazy fever dream through to its end, but Nattie's afraid again. She's afraid of the future and all of the unknowns that it presents, but she's also curious and maybe even a little bit hopeful that her life will turn out okay. 

She walks across the grass, and where usually her heels would sink into the ground, she somehow makes it to the window without a stumble or a stitch. Once there, she peers through the glass and prepares for the worst.

It's another den. Decorated in gentle tones of ivory and pink, the room looks tidy but comfortable, and the Christmas tree in the corner looks casual and happy. A woman is standing there, checking her reflection in the mirror mounted there, and Nattie's breath catches at the sight of her.

She's got long raven hair that hangs straight and loose to the small of her back, stunning brown eyes, and lusciously red lips. Her dress is the same shade as her mouth, and it clings to her curvaceous body like a second skin. It falls to her ankles, a crimson curtain with a thigh-high slit that offers tantalizing glimpses of her delicately defined leg. 

Nattie gulps audibly. "Who is she?"

She's no sooner voiced the question then she gets her answer as the beauty inside speaks for the first time. "Baby, come on, we're gonna be late for Brie's party!" 

"Okay, okay, I'm ready," comes the reply, and another Natalya walks into the room. "What do you think?"

She looks a little older than she is now, tiny little laugh lines around her eyes and her mouth, and a more mature confidence to her step. Her hair is longer, wavy and wild, and with a striking streak of bubblegum pink to one side. She's wearing a gorgeous dress of her own, short and sleeveless, and pink as her hair.  
She can't remember ever wearing something so bright or so bold, and she wonders how this other Natalya became so daring.

"I think that my wife is going to be the most beautiful woman at this party. I think men will fall at your feet, and women will beg for your attention, but none of them will matter because you're already _mine_." She tugs future Nattie into a kiss that starts out sweet and slowly ends up nearing X-rated territory. 

"Besides, you know I love you in this color." They both burst into loving laughter, and Nattie slips her wife's hand into hers as they exit the room. 

Overwhelmed by what she's just seen, she turns back to Xavier, Kofi, and Big E with a dazed expression.

"That was my wife?"

"Indeed," Xavier answers.

"And this is my future, for real?" 

"Undeniably real," Kofi nods. 

"And I'm happy here?"

Big E looks at her with a mockingly raised brow and a mouth curled with sarcastic sympathy. "What do you think?"

"Alright, so how do I make this happen?"

Kofi puts an encouraging hand on her shoulder. "You already know how to make this happen, Natalya. The answer has always been there."

"Now, are you going to go live your life, or are you going to keep watching from behind the barrier of your body?" Xavier snaps, patience slipping.

"I- I'm going to live my life."

"Good," they say in unison, and Kofi's hand is suddenly in her face, finger pressed to the center of her forehead as he shoves her back.

She's flying again. Flying through time as the sun sets and rises in a speedy backwards blur until all light narrows down to a single point of blinding brilliance. Her eyes start to water from the intensity, and she closes them on instinct, sparkling white dots dancing behind her lids. The air shifts, settles into an ambient hush, and when she opens her eyes, she's standing in the hallway of her parent's condo.

The black door in front of her, with it's perfectly placed white wreath and it’s silver accents, has never looked more ominous, but Nattie's never felt more determined. She takes a deep, bolstering breath, and her heart pounds a war drum as adrenaline shivers icy through her invigorated limbs. 

She doesn't bother knocking, knows the door will be unlocked in anticipation of her return, and once inside, she immediately heads for her father's office. She strides into the room with her head held high, her shoulders back, and her spine straight. Her heels click powerfully against the hardwood floor as all eyes turn their attention towards her.

"We need to talk."

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points if you can identify the engaged gays in The Glitter Room and/or Nattie's future wife.


End file.
